Our final stop on this leg of the journey was Port Vila, Vanuatu. Like its siblings, it’s a stunning little tropical gem. We’ve reached the point in the trip where we’ve officially retired from organized tours; from here on out, we’re going rogue. Armed with my GPSMyCity app, we’re sticking to self-guided walks. It’s much easier to stay on schedule when you aren’t waiting 15 minutes for a couple that’s clearly decided to start a new life in a French bingo hall.
It’s funny—we have more port stops on this short 8-day segment than we do on the entire 25-day cruise following it. That’s the “Transpacific Life” for you. The cruise line’s goal right now is simply to relocate this massive hotel to Alaska for the season, so the ship is basically a high-speed ferry with a buffet. We get a long, relaxing voyage at a bargain price, and the ship gets to where the salmon are. Win-win.
We spent the morning wandering through the local park, watching kids play, and then hit the market. It was an explosion of color—tropical flowers, exotic fruits, and the mouth-watering smell of local meals being cooked on the spot. We also stumbled upon a small group of musicians with a very creative setup. One young girl was playing a “homemade bottle flute” made of what looked like a PVC container and some tubing. It was surprisingly melodic! It really makes you appreciate the local ingenuity—and it certainly sounded better than the “instrumental performances” we’ve been hearing back on the ship… (rowdy kids, not the crew)
Port Vila has a bit of a “split personality” history. During the late 19th century, it was part of a unique “Condominium” government, where both France and the UK ruled the islands simultaneously. Imagine having two bosses who speak different languages and can’t agree on anything—it was as chaotic as it sounds! During WWII, Port Vila became a vital airbase for the Americans and Australians, and today it’s the bustling, multicultural heart of Vanuatu.
Now, let’s talk about the “atmosphere” back at the hotel. The 1,000 little monsters on this cruise have reached peak feral status. They’ve graduated from merely being loud to sprinting down the hallways, screaming, and—my personal favorite—banging on doors like they’re the 24-hour room service we never ordered.
We have two more days at sea before we head back toward the USA, and frankly, we are counting the minutes until this segment ends. The next cruise is a long-haul trek, which usually means the average age of the passengers will skyrocket and the number of “hallway sprinters” will plummet. Chuck is dreaming of the peace and quiet, and I’m right there with him.
The weather is holding steady in the low 80s—perfect for a long trek home and even more perfect for avoiding anyone under the age of 18.
May God bless you always.
Chuck & Lea Ann
WorldTravelReynolds 